Life in Progress
by dhrachth
Summary: EdRoy. Yaoi. Set post TV series. AU from the movie. Spoilers galore. Ed & Roy fall in love through everyday things. Not angst.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I have absolutely no legal rights to FMA or to anything related. 

A/N: Roy/Ed (or Ed/Roy). This is supposed to be a prologue to a lengthy story set post-series. But, it may turn out to be a drabble if I can't get the rest of it done--I've been working on it since March. No spoilers yet.

* * *

**Life in Progress: Prologue**

A loud crack of thunder echoed in a dimly lit bedroom. Edward 'Fullmetal' Elric snorted and startled awake.

Ed slurped back in the drool he could feel seeping out one corner of his mouth and pushed his hair back from his face with his flesh hand. Noticing more drool wrinkling and splotching the pages of the book he'd been reading in bed, Ed meh'd in disgust.

On the bright side, he hadn't fallen asleep on anything important or difficult to replace. Not this time.

Ed blotted the damp page with the sleeve of his pajamas and laid the book open on the nightstand to dry completely. Then he yawned, stretched, and slid out from under the covers. Absently scrubbing at the side of his face that was still slightly marred with book-prints, Ed alternately padded and clanked across the chilly bedroom floor toward the bathroom.

A few moments later, bodily needs taken care of, Ed shuffled back into the room, clicked off the reading lamp, and crawled back into bed. He swiftly burrowed into the covers and snuggled up against his sleeping lover, who twitched slightly when an icy metal foot brushed his calf but was too accustomed to the sensation to actually wake up.

After a minimum of shifting about, Ed finally got comfortable. Draped across his lover's back with his face buried in short black hair that smelled of soap with a lingering hint of charcoal, Ed purred in contentment.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I did have an idea about how Ed got back with Al regaining his memory & grown-up body in the process--but it was kind of boring. So just assume that's the way it is.

**Chapter 1**

Ten years previous...

Ed fingered his newly reinstalled automail, giving a low whistle of appreciation for Winry's handiwork.

"Uh, Niisan?" Al said a little nervously, fidgeting at the door of Winry's workshop.

"Huh?" Ed acknowledged absently, still too interested in his newly regained mobility.

"Don't get mad at Winry, she didn't mean to blab to Sciezka, it just kind of slipped out. And you had to tell them sometime. Everyone was really worried about you," Al said in his most reasonable tone.

Having no idea what his brother was talking about, Ed looked at Al, wondered when his brother took up babbling, and repeated, "Huh?"

Al grinned a bit sheepishly and stepped away from the door. In walked Colonel, no, make that General Roy Mustang, current front runner for post of Fuhrer.

"Fullmetal?" Roy said, just above a whisper, clearly unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Uh..." Ed said, scratching the back of his head nervously and trying not to stare at the large patch covering nearly half the General's face.

Ed found himself at a loss for what exactly one says to someone who thought you'd died three years previous, zealously fought all accusations of desertion and treason, and had even managed to finagle a posthumous two rank promotion in honor of your memory. All this time Ed had assumed Roy would shrug off his death as a mild inconvenience that he'd forget about as soon as he found a replacement pattsy. Adjusting to the fact that his former commanding officer really did care was kind of hard.

Roy crossed the workroom in three swift strides and pulled Ed into a rib cracking embrace.

Ed let out an undignified squeak of total shock.

"I thought you were dead," Roy murmured barely loud enough for Ed to hear. "Alphonse woundn't give up on you, but I was sure you were dead"  
"Uhmm..." Ed replied, still vainly casting about for something appropriate to say, and still trying not to stare at the patch. When filling him in on what had happened in the years he'd been away, Al had mentioned that Mustang lost an eye during the coup--but seeing it himself was very weird. Ed had always thought of Roy Mustang as somehow untouchable--that he was just too slick for anything serious to ever happen to him.

In the weeks since his brother brought him back, Ed had found himself ping-ponging back and forth between normal moments like having breakfast with Winry, Aunty Pinako, and Al and feeling like everything was just the same, only better, and times when he'd find out about something he never expected that had happened in the nearly three years he'd been gone, then feeling like he'd stepped into some bizzaro alternate universe. Being hugged by a one-eyed General Mustang was definitely falling into the latter category.

Regaining control of his emotions, Roy stepped back from Ed, but kept his hands on the boy, no, young man's shoulders so as to hold him at arm's length for a full inspection. "You look good," Roy finally said.

Then, almost as an afterthought, Roy added, "Almost normal human size."

Ed snarled, then demonstrated how else he'd grown in the past two years. Showing a remarkable increase in restraint and maturity, he made it a point not to use his metal limbs while smacking his former commanding officer.

Al grinned at the two of them from across the room. He didn't normally approve of violence, but somehow it suddenly seemed like things were back to normal.

Knowing the General probably had something more important to discuss than his brother's lack of height, Al dropped a few hints about good manners and civilized behavior--mostly for his brother's benefit--and herded Ed and Roy to the kitchen for light refreshments.

Winry and Pinako made themselves conveniently elsewhere. The Rockbell women were grateful for all the General had done to protect Al and Ed's secrets. The General, however, was always markedly uncomfortable in their presence.

"Welcome back Fullmetal," Roy told Ed as Al poured the three of them coffee in the Rockbell's kitchen.

"It's Ed, Edward, or, in your case, Mr. Elric. I'm a civilian now." Ed replied, smirking slightly.

Al unobtrusively elbowed Ed in the side, reminding that perhaps Ed was being a little rude.

"I never took your name off the State Alchemist rolls. You're still officially part of the military and under my command," Roy countered.

"Fine then, I resign," Ed said, trying to maintain a pose of complete calm, but giving away a rising anxiety about what the General might have up his sleeve by starting to drum metal finger tips on the kitchen table. Ed noticed his unconscious habit and hoped it just looked like impatience.

"I won't accept your resignation," Roy replied, "I need you Ed," he added, dead serious for once.

"For what?" Ed scoffed. "There's gotta be someone else fun to harass and torment who'll cheerfully volunteer to chase wild geese for you... before they realize what a total bastard you are."

"Niisan, that's not really fair," Al interjected. "General Mustang always looked out for us. He only teases you because he likes you. Isn't that right General?"

Roy winced a little at that remark. "Thank you for the support, but could you rephrase that to make me sound a little less like a five-year-old with a crush?" he pleaded.

"I think Al perfectly captured your maturity level," Ed said, evil grin firmly in place. "I guess I should just be happy he didn't take up hair pulling as a means of expressing his affection," Ed added in a conversational aside to his brother.

Al looked back and forth between Ed and Roy. Then he shrugged and gave Roy an apologetic smile. Ed wasn't yelling or throwing things--this was probably as close to civilized as he was going to get.

Roy cleared his throat to regain Ed's attention and asked, "Can we please get back to the matter at hand?"

"What matter? There is no matter. I'm not a State Alchemist. I resign. The end. I am not taking on any more crap missions," Ed said, carefully enunciating each syllable for emphasis.

Roy sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "Edward, Alphonse, I'm going to be completely honest with you."

"For once?" Ed said crossing his arms across his chest, and his voice carrying a highly skeptical and slightly bitter tone. Roy sounded sincerely concerned, but Ed had his doubts, understandably so in light of past experience.

"Yes, for once," Roy acknowledged the jab with a self-deprecating smile. Then, suddenly all business, he continued, "Amestris is teetering on the brink of destruction."

"But, I thought things were getting better?" Al protested.

"You can save the melodrama for your bimbos from the secretarial pool," Ed commented dryly.

"That's what we're telling the public," Roy agreed with Al, completely ignoring Ed's comment. "And, it's even mostly true. However 'better' is relative.

"The government is near bankruptcy. The Fuhrer poured vast amounts of money into military campaigne after military campaigne with every enemy seemingly handpicked for financial worthlessness.

"We're doing what we can to repair the damage, but... The treasury is empty, we have massive debts, and due to the continued border conflicts we're still hemoraging.

"If we have to supress another radical uprising before peace agreements can be hammered out with our neighbors--the country is going to literally implode. The military just doesn't have the resources to hold things together anymore."

Ed blinked a few times, completely nonplused, not so much at the state of the country--it was a remarkably similar story to the situation in the world he'd just left--but at the fact that General Roy Mustang, the bastard who simply delighted in leading him around by the nose, had just leveled with him.

"Jesus," Ed finally said, using an epithet picked up from an American grad student of his acquaintence. "Risembool is just the same as when we were kids, I wouldn't have thought things were that bad... But, what do want me to do about it? Transmute a pile of gold and donate it to the government? Money problems aren't exactly my forte."

"I need men I can trust," Roy answered swiftly. "More importantly, I need men the people can trust. The Fullmetal Alchemist is practically a folkhero. If anyone can keep the countryside from exploding while Amestris gets back on even ground, it's you," Roy replied.

"You do know that whole folkhero bit's total fiction? I blew shit up and things just happened to go the way they did," Ed pointed out.

"The fact hadn't escaped me," Roy said wryly. "But, the truth isn't nearly as important as what people believe to be true."

"You're a complete and total bastard and I really, truly hate you," Ed stated, looking thoroughly dejected.

"I'll let Havoc know he can start planning the welcome back party," Roy interrupted, taking Ed's comment for the acquiesence it was.

"Hold it just a second," Ed interjected before Roy could get too smuggly self-congratulatory for once again suckering him in as a government lackey. "I didn't say I was back, at least not yet."

"I assume you're at least considering it," Roy said, confident the fish was on the hook and he only had to reel him in. "What can I offer to make the decision easier for you?"

"Two conditions," Ed said holding up two metal fingers.

"Hmm?" Roy prompted.

"First off, you leave Al out of this--it's enough that one of us has been roped into being a State lackey," Ed stated.

"Niisan--" Al started to protest. He had a lot of respect for his elder brother, but that didn't mean Ed had a right to decided his future.

Ed turned to Al with a look of total resolve, "Don't even think about it. You can re-take the State exam over my dead body."

Before Al could protest further, Roy agreed with Ed's request and pointed out the fact that if they were both in the military they'd have to be separated into different chains of command due to regulations. Al let the matter go for the time being.

"Second condition: No more ulterior motive bullshit," Ed said, deadly serious. "I don't care what reasons you think you have for that crap. I'm not putting up with it anymore. As soon as you give me reason to even think you're not being straight with me, I'm on the first train back to Risembool."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific," Roy replied, pretending to complete innocence in the matter. "I can't seem to recall any of my past dealings with you to be anything but completely above board. Perhaps you could give me an example?"

"An example?" Ed scoffed. "Do I have to narrow it down to just one? How about that time you theoretically sent me to the Eastern border to buy imported cheese when you actually wanted me to break up a slavery ring run by corrupt military officers?"

Roy let a slightly smirking grin appear briefly cross his face as he remembered the temper tantrum Ed threw when he got the 'cheese mission' orders. "I could hardly order an investigation of two colonels and a brigadier general based solely on rumors," Roy attempted to reason with Edward.

"You could have given me a hint," Ed grumbled, still holding a grudge nearly six years later. Then, warming to the subject matter, he added "But, noooo... Instead of mentioning that I might want to pay extra attention to the local command, or something useful like that, you waxed poetical for nearly an hour about fancy cheeses."

"Intentionally provoking Niisan like that really wasn't very nice," Al interjected. "And posting the orders on the bulletin board so that everyone except Ms. Hawkeye kept mentioning cheese everytime they saw us for weeks afterward was totally uncalled for too."

"Perhaps I went a little too far, just that once," Roy admitted, looking mildly chastised. "But, you must understand that I often can't tell you what I think I know about a situation due to either its sensitive nature or because I can't afford to prejudice your investigation."

"Uh huh," Ed answered, crossing his arms across his chest, clearly unimpressed.

"He does have a point," Al willing to give Mustang the benefit of the doubt. "He wouldn't keep things from you just to be irritating. He had legitimate reasons too... Most of the time... I think..."

"Legitimate reasons my ass," Ed said, still not buying it.

Roy gave a long suffering sigh and said, "Very well, I give you my word that I will tell you as much of the truth as I am able and save the cover stories for the official report."

"Well... that's okay then," Ed said, surprised to get even that much. He was mostly complaining just to complain. He never thought Mustang would actually make any concessions. The man knew that he could hardly stand by and let Amestris fall apart without trying to help, no matter what he might say to the contrary. "When should I report for duty?"

"I'll expect you in Central next week to pick up your orders, Colonel Elric."

"Colonel?" Al asked surprised.

"Next week!" Ed objected at the precise same time.

"A posthumous promotion is still a promotion," Roy explained.

"Next month," Ed counter offered. "Resurrection from the dead is a traumatic experience. I need personal time."

"Two weeks," said Roy.

"Three."

"Three weeks. But, I expect you in my office 6:00 AM, Monday morning," Roy agreed.

"Fine," Ed said sourly, he wasn't really planning to meander in at five til five--that would be childish. "I'm sorry Al," Ed apologized to his brother, "I just got back and now I'm going to have to leave again."

"Not without me, you're not," Al replied in a tone that brooked no arguments.

"Alphonse, thank you. It is a relief to know that someone rational will be along to minimize the damage," Roy agreed with Al's declaration.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"He in?" Ed asked a harried looking Havoc as he nodded toward the door of General Mustang's office.

"Go on in," Havoc replied.

Ed dropped his bag on the floor in front of Havoc's desk, brushed some of the road dust off his jacket, and proceeded toward the General's office to drop off his report. After nearly a year of almost constant travel putting out fires and nipping terrorist plots in the bud, Ed was looking forward to a few weeks vacation. Al, technically a free agent and sometimes consultant, had already headed back to Risembool to spend time with Winry. Ed, greatly anticipating the official start of being blessedly off duty, i.e. time to do some personal research on a subject entirely unrelated to politics and military strength, went to the office directly from the train station to hand in his report.

"And, Boss," Havoc said just before Ed kicked open the door, "You should probably go easy on him, especially if that's not good news. He's not been looking so good since Hawkeye's been away."

"I thought she'd have sorted out the Eastern Depot by now," Ed said, nose slightly scrunched up in puzzlement.

"Depot's running like clockwork, but Mustang sicced her on the Motor Division three weeks ago--she's touring production and maintenance sites," Havoc explained.

"Oh," Ed said in understanding. He paused in front of Mustang's door for a second, chewing on the inside of one cheek slightly as he calculated the stress level engendered by the approaching yearly review and possible promotions, a couple volatile local situations only tentatively solved, up coming negotiations with Drachma, and Hawkeye not there to keep the General organized and on track.

Deciding that loud banging noises probably wouldn't be appropriate under the circumstances, Ed opted for the door knob rather than a swift kick.

Having slipped into the office almost silently, Ed stood just inside the door assessing his commanding officer's condition for a few moments before making any move to draw the General's attention.

Mustang scratched just under his eye patch with one hand while the other hand was occupied making notations on the map of the Northern border which was spread across his desk.

Precariously balanced on one corner of the desk was a plate with a half eaten sandwich left over from the day before--judging from its somewhat withered appearance--and an empty coffee cup lay on the floor--likely knocked off the desk when the map was unfurled. Every horizontal surface in the office was piled high with mission reports, economic reports, intelligence reports, and God only knows what other bits of paperwork.

The man himself didn't appear to be in much better shape than his office. His uniform was rumpled with the front closures all undone. It looked like it'd been slept in. His hair sported an enormous, and somewhat amusing, cowlick. And, judging from the dark circle under his eye--he was some days short of sleep. He was certainly a far cry from the always immaculate poster child for laziness Ed first met all those years ago.

"You look like hell," Ed observed conversationally.

"Since you're taking time to comment on my personal appearance, I assume the mission went well," Roy replied, not looking up from what he was marking on the map. "Unless there's something I should know about, just leave your report on the closest stack before you go."

Roy had eased off on the teasing in the past year, but letting Ed out of his office without a single snide comment was just unnatural.

"You feeling okay?" Ed asked, honestly concerned, pulling the glove off his hand and stepping around piles of paperwork to get close enough to check Mustang for fever.

"I'm fine," Roy insisted as he batted Ed's hand away from his forehead, clearly starting to get testy. "If you're going on leave, I suggest you go now--before I change my mind. I have things to do and don't have time to play right now."

Ed sniffed at the implication that he was a little kid wanting to 'play'--not that he'd _ever_ want to play with Mustang--but demonstrated his new found maturity by pointedly letting the comment go without remark. Changing the subject, "When's the last time you ate?" Ed asked, looking at the crusty sandwich.

"Excuse me?" Roy replied wondering what exactly happened to Ed on his last mission to turn him into Roy's mother.

Taking that to mean that the General likely hadn't had lunch yet, "Good, I haven't had lunch either and it's meatloaf Tuesday," Ed said as he grabbed Roy by the wrist and started manhandling him toward the door.

"Fullmetal, have you completely lost your mind? What do you think you're doing?" Roy barked as he tried to pry Ed's metal fingers from around his wrist.

"I'm taking you to lunch," Ed replied as he dragged the General past a bemused Havoc.

"What?" Roy asked again, still totally at sea on this strange turn of events.

"Lunch, that meal between breakfast and dinner, typically consumed in the middle of the day," Ed elaborated.

"I know what lunch is," Roy replied acidicly, now sedately walking beside Ed and doing his best to keep Ed's grip on his wrist out of sight--so as not to cause an embarrassing scene in the halls of Central Headquarters. "Why are you dragging me?"

Ed rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Because, if you keel over at your desk, who do you think is going to be called in from a long anticipated vacation as the next highest ranking and currently unassigned officer in this chain of command to take charge in your absence?"

"So this is entirely self serving?" Roy asked, just to be clear.

"Totally," Ed confirmed.

"I suppose I do need to eat," Roy acknowledged, now that the order of the universe had been at least partially restored. "You can let go of me now. I'll come along quietly," Roy added wryly.

Ed glanced down at where his hand was still latched onto Roy's arm. "Oh, right," Ed agreed sheepishly and let go.

Once outside the building, Roy turned to the left. Ed started to reach out to stop him, but thought better of it in light of the recent near-hand-holding. "It's the other way," Ed called out instead.

"The commissary is that way," Roy said, pointing left.

"Yummy, army food," Ed replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

'Army food' wasn't exactly fine cuisine, but it was very nutritional and the cook at Central was perfectly passable. Roy didn't know what Ed was making such a fuss about--it's not like this was a date requiring a tastefully understated romantic atmosphere. Shrugging the matter aside, Roy said, "Pick whichever restaurant you like, since you're buying."

Ed muttered something under his breath that sounded kind of like, "Cheap bastard." Then led Roy out the front gates and down the street to their right.

The two of them proceeded in silence to a non-descript office building a few blocks from headquarters. A sign out front listed several groups of names--accountants or lawyers most likely. Ed ducked down the alley next to the building, opened a side door, and started down a staircase just inside the door.

"Ah, Fullmetal, I thought we were going to lunch?" Roy questioned, wondering what they were doing in a somewhat distressed looking stairwell with peeling wallpaper and concrete steps speckled with fossilized chewing gum.

"We are," Ed confirmed as he opened the steel security door at the bottom of the stairwell, having to lean into the door with his whole body to get it to swing open.

Roy followed Ed through the door and found himself in, well, a basement. The floor was bare concrete. The walls were raw brick. The ceiling was a rat's nest of exposed pipes and wires with a few fluorescent bulbs for variety. It could almost be some artsy, minimalist, hangout for the ultra pretentious, except for the furnishings--which were obviously authentic yard-sale goods rather than pricey imitation-shabby. Despite the total lack of decor, there were people seated at the hodgepodge of folding card tables, retired school desks, butt sprung arm-chairs, and worn office gear. "There's a bistro just around the corner that does an excellent turkey club," Roy interjected hopefully.

"Trust me," Ed replied, grinning evilly. Ed led Roy to a scarred wooden table situated in the far corner of the room and sat down in one of the similarly worn wooden chairs. 

Roy gingerly sat down in the other chair and visibly relaxed once he'd ascertained that it was still sound, if not pretty.

Seconds after they sat down a woman with rosy cheeks and a head of short fly-away gray hair poked her head out of a window cut in the wall between the restaurant and the kitchen and called to Ed, "You want the usual, hon?"

"Yes, ma'am. Make it two," Ed replied.

"You actually eat here often enough to have a 'usual'?" Roy asked, sounding honestly appalled. He'd eaten in worse places himself, but always for work related reasons, never of his own volition.

"Miss Trudy happens to be the best cook in Central--possibly in the whole of Amestris," Ed informed his superior officer smugly, as if he had something to do with the cooking.

Roy mentally comforted himself with the thought that since Ed had eaten there regularly without any ill effects he'd probably escape with only the mildest case of food poisoning. Ed hummed tunelessly and anticipated his lunch.

A few minutes later Miss Trudy brought two large glasses of iced tea, two plates piled high with a thick slices of meatloaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes covered in a thick brown gravy, and a basket of fluffy yeast rolls. "You boys holler if you need anything," Miss Trudy said as she hurried back to the kitchen, having unceremoniously plunked down their meals in front of them.

Roy took a slightly bent fork from the bucket of utensils serving as the table's center piece. Inspected it for cleanliness and, deciding that those were just harmless water spots, started poking at the meatloaf--suspicious of it's contents.

"Eat," Ed half grunted, mouth already full.

Surrendering to the inevitable, Roy finally sampled a small bite of meatloaf. Roy chewed thoroughly and swallowed, "This is good," he said, very surprised. After eating another forkful, this time a normal sized one, he reiterated, "This is very good."

Ed sipped his tea, smirked, and said, "Told you so."

Ed and Roy ate in silence for awhile, too busy inhaling lunch to engage in conversation. As they were chasing that last stray green bean and mopping up the last drop of gravy on their plates, Ed asked Roy, "Want dessert?"

"There's dessert?" Roy said, definitely interested, despite thinking he was too full to eat another bite just seconds before.

"Apple pie, usually." Then pausing a minute to think, "Sometimes blueberry or peach," Ed added.

"Apple pie sounds good," said Roy.

"Cheese or ice cream?" asked Ed.

"Ice cream," Roy said, shuddering slightly at the thought of cheese on pie.

"Philistine," Ed accused, insult completely lost on the General, it being an alternate world reference and all. Ed picked up the two empty plates and took them over to the kitchen window where there was a shelf specifically intended as a place to drop off dirty dishes. While putting up the plates, he gave Miss Trudy their dessert order.

After Ed returned to their table to await their dessert order, Roy asked, "So how did you find this place? It's not exactly on the beaten path."

"The guy that runs Winry's favorite hardware store recommended it," said Ed.

"I'm surprised you stayed to try the food, considering..." Roy said, looking around at the place.

Ed just shrugged. "Living out of a suit case, you learn not to be too picky."

"You know, for some reason, I always pictured your brother cooking for the two of you. I suppose that would have been difficult to accomplish without a kitchen," Roy mused.

Ed opened his mouth to say something, then broke off when he saw Miss Trudy coming with slices of pie, one with ice cream and the other with a slice of sharp yellow cheese melted across the top, and coffee to go with it.

"How can you eat that?" Roy asked as Ed took a bite of his cheese topped pie with every sign of enjoyment.

"It's good," Ed insisted. Then picking back up on their previous topic, he added, "Al's a total neat freak, but his cooking sucks. Maybe all that time not being able to taste anything..." Ed trailed off, suddenly somber. Visibly shaking himself to dismiss the thought, Ed changed the subject, "General, can I ask you something?"

"It's not like I can stop you," Roy replied, non-committaly as he added cream and a little sugar to his coffee, which was every bit as good as lunch was, even if it wasn't his preferred blend. He also noticed that Ed now drank his coffee black instead of adding mounds of sugar, giving him yet another strange moment of realization that Ed wasn't the same little kid any more. Roy knew, intellectually, that Ed was now 20-years-old and all grown-up, but for some reason, more often than not, he still expected Ed to be a loudmouthed little brat.

"What happened after I disappeared?" Ed asked. "Everyone I've asked gives me the same BS about, 'Brigadier General Mustang stumbled upon a plot to assassinate the late-Fuhrer, went undercover as a revolutionary, faked a coup to ferret out the conspirators, and risked his life in a heroic but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to protect the Fuhrer.' What's even creepier is that most of the people I asked recited it exactly that way with those exact words," Ed said, extremely curious. He was quite certain Roy killed Fuhrer Bradley, but how he managed to come out of it smelling like roses and with a two rank promotion to boot was still a mystery.

Knowing Fullmetal was in no way a security risk, Roy decided to fill him in. He was just surprised Ed had gone this long without having to know. "Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Revealing any information other than what was in the official statement released to the public at the time would be considered treason."

"But why? Why weren't you court-martialed and hanged?" Ed pressed on.

"It was a question of leverage," Roy explained. "Armstrong offered a temporary cease fire between my men and the state troops in exchange for the postponement of my court martial till after I'd recovered enough to present my case. The Generals were happy to accept his offer. With an open spot at the top of the food chain open they had more pressing concerns than a minor rebellion. That gave Sciezka, Hawkeye, and the rest of my staff time to dig up evidence of Fuhrer Bradley and the rest of the administrative staff's illegal activities. Once we had the evidence in hand, it was a simple matter to apply pressure in the right places."

Ed rolled his eyes and said, "I should have figured. I'm just surprised you didn't have the evidence before you made your move."

"So, does this mean I get to ask a question now?" Roy asked slyly.

"I suppose," Ed agreed, albeit reluctantly. But, equivalent trade was still equivalent trade.

"Rumor has it Alphonse and the lovely Miss Rockbell have grown awfully close in the past year. Does that make you jealous?" Roy asked, less interested in the answer and more interested in changing the subject to something a bit lighter.

"What kind of question is that!" Ed exclaimed.

"Well if you don't want to answer..." Roy said in a very understanding way that implied that of course Ed was mad with jealousy and more than a little pitiful.

"Fine," Ed said sourly, "if you really must know. When I think of Al and Winry together, I feel..." here Ed paused a second, really thinking about his answer, "relieved."

"Relieved?" Roy repeated. He was expecting 'happy for them' or 'just a little jealous' not 'relieved.'

"It's like with Al and Winry dating things are the way they were always supposed to be--ever since we were little kids. And everything that happened was just a detour, not me totally fucking things up forever," Ed elaborated.

Thinking he'd inadvertently taken them back into deep water, Roy latched onto the most seemingly harmless item in that revelation, "Since you were little kids?"

"Yeah," Ed said, an actual smile appearing on his face. "When I was... about eight, I guess, I wanted to marry Winry. Al wanted to marry Winry too. We decided that the only way to settle it was to fight for her."

"What happened?" asked Roy, truly curious.

"Al won," Ed answered quite simply. "Then, when Winry found out, she boxed our ears for stupidity and said she wouldn't marry either of us. Then she fussed over Al's scraped knee and all I got was a lecture for picking on my little brother--even after I pointed out my busted lip and black eye." The injustice of the act clearly still rankled. "After that, I figured it was just as well she liked Al better. I decided it'd be a good idea to find a less violent girl to marry." 

"Wise decision," Roy agreed, laughing at a mental image of a battle-scarred chibi-Ed pouting because he didn't get the girl. "So are you catching the evening train to Risembool, or waiting till tomorrow morning?" Roy asked, making idle conversation.

Ed swallowed the bite of pie he'd just put in his mouth, took a sip of coffee, then shook his head and said, "Neither. I plan to spend the next week or so in the library. Winry and Al are coming here sometime next week. She said there were things she needed to buy in Central. So we'll probably spend a lot of time in hardware shops and doing touristy things with Winry."

"That's very kind of you, doing research on your vacation to give your brother and Miss Rockbell some time alone together," Roy observed, thinking that Ed was perhaps being just a little too considerate.

"You know, some of us actually _like_ learning and figuring things out. I've been looking forward to having the time to work on a certain non-military related project for months now," Ed insisted.

"To each his own," Roy said with a shrug. He should have figured that Ed, the little book loving freak, wouldn't do anything normal in his free time. "Just out of curiosity, what is it you're planning to research?"

"Reproduction of botanical chimera," Ed replied. "You've read Carmichael, right?" Ed asked, finding it difficult to see the General as the studious type, but the man did pass the State Alchemist test.

"He's the one who produced chimera who could mate and produce offspring," Roy replied, vaguely recalling Carmichael's thesis.

"Right, he found that two chimera produced in the same reaction would be genetically similar enough to qualify as the same species and be capable of reproduction. Of course, making two separate animals in one reaction has only been replicated twice in the fifty years since," Ed explained.

"I once knew a chimera specialist that died in an alchemy accident that happened while conducting some experiments based on Carmichael," said Roy warningly. On one hand, he knew Ed was a genius at alchemy and could likely pull off such a transmutation without a hitch. On the other, there was no sense taking chances for an unimportant side project.

"There's just too many details involved in creating two separate creatures at once," Ed agreed. "But, plants are different. A single plant has both male and female parts. Following Carmichael's line of reasoning, that it's only the slightly different genetic mix in each separate transmutation that prevents reproduction, a chimerical plant should produce viable offspring with the same traits as the parent plant."

"But, it doesn't," Ed continued his explanation. "For some reason, chimerical plants either can't produce offspring or the offspring is one of the original plant types, not the same type as the new combined plant. Then, a few months ago, Fletcher Tringham mentioned that the tricky part of fast growing plants was making sure the internal structure grew at the same rate as the external, and that gave me an idea about what might be the problem with plants..." Ed continued his explanation, grabbing a couple napkins to doodle a few diagrams.

Roy listened attentively, asking the occasional question and even offering a few suggestions. Botanical alchemy wasn't something he normally cared about, but Ed's enthusiasm and sheer brilliance made it fascinating.

After they finished the second refill on the coffee, Ed paid the check and the two of them strolled back toward Central Headquarters and the library. When they got to the intersection where Ed would have to turn to get to the library, they paused for a second, slightly uncomfortable, to say goodbye.

"Thank you for lunch," Roy said, inwardly appalled at his near reflex reaction to kiss his 'date' on the cheek and wish 'her' a good afternoon. He really needed to make some actual friends. "It was surprisingly enjoyable."

"Yeah," Ed agreed, "Not painful at all."

"Good luck with your research," Roy added.

"You too, with whatever it is you do all day," said Ed before darting off toward the library.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Hey," Ed casually greeted his commanding officer as he plopped himself down on the next highest step and slightly to the right of where the General was sprawled. "I thought you left already."

"I would have, but Fury volunteered to be my driver today and he seemed to be making progress with one of the bride's maids. I didn't want to interrupt," Roy explained, before taking a sip from a bottle of whiskey he'd liberated from the bar before escaping to the reception hall's back steps.

"Ah," Ed said, nodding his understanding. Then he reached over, grabbed the bottle of whiskey out of Roy's hand, took a drink, and handed the bottle back.

Roy arched one eyebrow in surprise. He didn't think of Ed as much of a drinker, but the way he knocked back fine aged whiskey without so much as a grimace spoke of a certain level of experience.

The two silently sat on the steps for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Shouldn't you be in there, celebrating the occasion?" Roy finally asked. "I thought you were ecstatic about your brother getting married?" he prodded, always somewhat doubtful of Ed's claims to being completely fine with Al and Winry's marriage. Even with his new sister-in-law setting up shop in Central, Al getting married was sure to change the brotherly dynamic.

"It's not that," Ed insisted, waving one hand in the air as if to physically brush Roy's theory aside. "It's just, you know, weddings."

"Weddings?" Roy prompted.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Ed replied. "Why else would you be hiding on the back steps instead of inside trying to pick up some sweet young thing?"

"First off, I have never 'picked up some sweet young thing,'" Roy pompously informed his companion. "I have, in my life, had deeply meaningful relationships with a series of extremely attractive women. At this time, I simply find myself too busy looking after the best interests of the citizens of Amestris to have the time to pursue such a relationship."

"Uh huh," Ed replied dryly, not buying Roy's explanation for a minute.

"Secondly, I'm not hiding," Roy continued, ignoring Ed's blatant skepticism. "I'm merely getting a breath of fresh air."

"And drinking a whole bottle of whiskey all by yourself," Ed pointed out. "It's not even dark yet." This clearly wasn't the behavior of someone totally 'okay' with the wedding. Ed assumed it must be the concept of weddings in general rather than Al and Winry in specific getting Roy down. Perhaps something to do with the gargantuan eye-patch and the General's significantly reduced love life ever since...

"Half a bottle of whiskey," Roy corrected as he passed the bottle back to Ed. It wasn't full when he snagged it from the bar. "And you're here, so make that a quarter bottle."

The two lapsed into silence again, occasionally passing the bottle back and forth, as they watched the sun start to descend behind the next building over.

After a while, Roy decided to pick up the thread of their conversation, "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Huh?" Ed asked a little confused.

"What put you off weddings?" Roy clarified.

Ed's eyebrows drew together and the tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he put some deep thought into deciding if he should tell Roy and how much. Finally, he replied, "I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours."

Roy thought it over for a second, carefully weighed the pros and cons, and finally came to a decision. "Fair enough," he agreed.

A few tense second ticked by. "Well?" Ed impatiently blurted out.

"I asked you first," said Roy. Something about talking to Ed always brought out his juvenile side.

"Fine," Ed huffed, eyes narrowed in irritation. Ed took an especially large swig of the whiskey, paused for a moment to gather his thoughts and began, "I guess I should start in Heidelberg. It's a city in..." Ed paused, thinking of the best way to put it, "the other place. I was studying there, trying to find a way back. I spent a lot of time in the library."

Roy kept silent through Ed's narration. Ed rarely volunteered information about the 'other place' and all inquiries were usually answered with monosyllabic replies. He didn't want to risk getting the conversation off track and losing this rare chance to satisfy his curiosity.

"There was this girl, Greta. She worked there. They'd crated up and moved all the rare manuscripts to the basement so they wouldn't be destroyed if the library got bombed. She was helping unpack them. Since those were the books I was most interested in, we ended up spending a lot of time together. One thing lead to another and well... you know," Ed explained succinctly.

"Ah," Roy said, nodding knowingly, "Puppy love?" A teenager with a quest was still a teenager.

"No, not really," Ed contradicted. "I think we were both just lonely. There I was, completely cut off from everyone I've ever known or cared about with only my father for company, and we weren't exactly close. I'd been there almost two years by then. I was still looking for a way back, but I don't think I really believed I would find one.

"And Greta, well, her husband died in the trenches, mustard gas, I think. Then her daughter died in one of the epidemics that came after the war."

Ed paused for a second, thinking back to that time, then added, "I liked Greta. She was a good person. Under different circumstances..." Ed trailed off, grinned a bit ruefully, and said, "I don't know, really. But, at the time I think I was too focused on my own problems to really give someone new a chance. I think we both were."

"Sounds bleak," Roy observed evenly, knowing that Ed would not appreciate any gestures of sympathy. And, if Roy gave into his first impulse--the impulse to apologize for failing to protect Ed from all the things he promised himself he would--Ed would probably get downright testy.

"Yeah, bleak's about right," Ed agreed. "Like I said, one thing lead to another," he picked the narrative back up, "and one day Greta told me she was pregnant."

"Pregnant!" Roy sputtered, after coughing up the mouth full of whiskey that'd gone down the wrong pipe.

"My reaction exactly," said Ed. "So, I did the 'right thing.' I asked her to marry me."

"Don't tell me you left a wife and child behind when your brother brought you back," Roy said in a hushed tone, both horrified and strangely fascinated. It seemed that everything Roy thought he knew about Ed might be suddenly turn on its head in one short conversation, if it was true.

"No," Ed easily dismissed Roy's concern. "It turned out to be a false alarm. But, the thing is, even before Greta knew she wasn't pregnant, she still turned me down. She said I was too dedicated to my work to ever be a decent husband and father, and as hard as it would be to have a baby on her own, she thought marrying me would be even worse. Widows with small children were all over the place. She'd have fit right in. At first I wanted to object, but after I thought about it, I realized she was right."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Roy disagreed, breathing a mental sigh of relief to find out that Ed was still the person he thought he was--honorable, impulsive, and far too self-effacing. "Granted, when it comes to alchemy you can get a little obsessed, but that doesn't make you a monster. You'd never intentionally hurt someone you cared about."

"Intention has nothing to do with it. Just look at Hohenheim. Much as I hate to admit it, he really did love Mom, me and Al too, but he still went away. Alchemy was just too important. And, as stomach churning as it is to think it, I can't help but notice that I'm not that different from my father. Things would come up, and I'd turn into the bastard that abandoned his family.

"Growing up, I guess I always assumed I'd get married and have a couple kids, just like everyone else. But, that's not the way it turned out. It's never going to happen, because I won't make any commitments I know I can't keep," Ed said with finality.

Then shrugging a bit self deprecatingly, Ed added, "Of course that doesn't mean I can't be a little bothered by the thought of what might have been, 'the road not taken' you know--even if it is my own choice."

Roy did his full on supercilious face with the arched eyebrow and smirk. He even threw in a little laugh for good measure. "You're what? Twenty? Twenty-one? And you've already decided your whole future?"

"I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to listen to my elder while he imparts wisdom gleaned from his many, many years of life," Ed observed sarcastically.

"Admittedly, I find myself completely incapable of imagining you with a wife and a couple rug rats," Roy continued, passing over the implications about his age for now but mentally noting it down for later address. "But, it is far too soon to rule out the possibility of you one day growing out of your social ineptitude. Even if you are never capable of properly interacting with people, there are women who share your social retardation. Maybe, you could marry Sciezka and produce a gaggle of academic freak children."

Ed's eyes narrowed in anger, but instead of retaliation he decided to be charitable. "I'm going to let that go, just this once, because you're drunk."

"Am not," Roy insisted.

"Are," said Ed.

"Am not."

"Are too."

Roy opened his mouth to repeat his denial, realized what he was doing, and instead started to get unsteadily to his feet. He wasn't drunk. Sitting on the stone steps had made his butt numb, or at least so he told himself. "I'm going in. If Fury hasn't gotten her number by now, he's never going to."

"No you're not," Ed said, grabbing Roy's sleeve and pulling him back down. "I spilled my guts. It's your turn."

"Fine then," Roy huffed, crossing his arms across his chest and pointedly looking away from Ed. "I don't like weddings because they remind me of the most humiliating day of my life."

"Go on," Ed encouraged. This sounded promising.

Still not looking at Ed, Roy mumbled, "I asked Hawkeye to marry me."

"And?"

"She laughed," Roy admitted, visibly wincing.

"She laughed?"

"And laughed and laughed, until she teared up. Then, after she settled down some, she looked at me and started laughing again. Apparently, I'm not marriage material," Roy explained.

Ed blinked a few times in shock, then let out a loud guffaw.

"Thank you very much, Fullmetal. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that," Roy said sarcastically.

"Sorry," Ed said, grinning like a fiend and obviously not sorry at all.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"--so he's probably embezzling," Ed finished his explanation to his brother of exactly why he was going on a trip to some backwater called Hannon rather than helping set up control groups for their botanical experiments.

"If General Mustang assigned you this mission..." Al trailed off. "I mean you would never volunteer for a mission just to get out of the boring part of our experiments, right?" he asked, more than a little suspicious of the exact motives behind the assignment.

Ed had been reassigned from field work to research three months previous. When their little side project started showing results, the state deemed the prospective profits from sale of new exotic hybrids and export of high demand items crossed with high yield crops more important than Ed's work as a field agent.

"It was entirely his idea, I swear," Ed said defensively. Sure, he certainly wasn't unhappy to get out of the tedious setting things up part--but he didn't try to duck out.

"Here's an original idea," Winry interjected into the conversation as she placed a covered casserole dish in the center of the kitchen table, "Why don't you both go? Then you can start potting plants when you get back, both of you, together."

"But you're opening your shop next week," Al protested.

"Oh, good point," Winry nodded in agreement. Then before Al and Ed could get back to whining about who was getting out of what work, she continued, "All the more reason for you both to go. With you two out from under foot, I can get some actual work done."

"But--" Al started again.

"But nothing," Winry interrupted. "It's a four day trip and we haven't been apart for more than a couple hours at a time in months. Sweetie, I love you more than anything, even more than automail, and I really appreciate all the help buying supplies and getting the shop set up, but you're driving me crazy."

"But, you're my wife now, and--" Al persisted.

"And you'll be extra careful not to get hurt and will call me everyday to let me know where you are and that everything is okay," Winry broke in again, not accepting any objections. "Go, spend time with your brother," she ordered. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "And keep a close eye on him. I've got enough work lined up. I don't want to have to squeeze in any emergency repairs."

"Yes, ma'am," Al finally agreed, smiling sheepishly.

Ed was silent through this interchange between husband and wife. He sat there, elbows on the red check table cloth covering the kitchen table and chin propped up in hands, simply beaming at his two favorite people in the entire world. When Al and Winry were happy, he was happy too.

"Now that that's settled," Ed changed the subject, "What's for dinner?"

General Roy Mustang signed the last page of the morning paperwork and dropped the whole stack into his outbox. It was only just after 11 o'clock. Captain Hawkeye was going to be pleased. Roy, on the other hand, wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

There were things he could do. Work that needed to be done eventually. But, it didn't need to be done now. Getting started early just seemed somehow unnatural.

Doodling on his desk blotter and wondering how this bizarre occurrence of being totally caught up with his paperwork and having nothing to do came to pass, Roy came to the conclusion that it was entirely Ed's fault.

It was Wednesday. And on Wednesdays, Ed always showed up promptly at 11:30am, begged for more research funds for half an hour, then dragged him off to that Drachman restaurant at 5th and Main that always served a delectable hot and sour soup on Wednesdays.

He'd gotten into the habit of clearing his schedule for just that event. Except Ed was in Hannon this week, so Roy found himself with a clear desk and no lunch plans.

He supposed he could go to the Drachman place by himself, but the thought just seemed wrong somehow. That was their place. He couldn't go alone.

Realizing what he'd just thought, Roy blushed slightly and glanced nervously around his empty office as if someone might have overheard his thoughts. Then getting better hold of himself, he dismissed the notion of 'their place' as idle nonsense brought on by too much work, kicked his feet up on his desk, slouched down in his chair, and settled in for a mid-day nap.

"When you get to the part in where the building collapsed, don't forget to mention that it was all your idea and I didn't have anything to do with it," Al reminded Ed for the third time as he watched his older brother scrawl out his mission report in orange pencil on the back of a three week old train itinerary he'd found under the seat.

"I'll leave you out of it, I promise," Ed reassured for the third time, getting a little exasperated. He didn't know what Al was making such a big deal about. He'd straightened things out that time the state billed Al for street repairs in Karse.

"I've got pen and paper in my bag," Al offered.

"So've I," Ed informed his brother, "Or, I could wait till we get back and type my report."

"Why don't you? You know the General is just going to smirk at you, ask lots of questions, and file it without reading it."

Ed just shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm keeping with tradition."

"If I ever destroyed a building," emphasis on the 'I' because Al would never destroy a building, or at least he would never make a habit of it, "I'd at least make my report neat and legible."

"What the hell does the report have to do with anything?" Ed asked, honestly confused.

"Rebuilding is coming out of the General's budget. Turning in an explanation you scribbled down while you were on the train back just seems like adding insult to injury," Al explained.

"Like he cares what my report looks like," Ed dismissed Al's concern. "Besides, it's hardly an injury. It was one teeny-tiny office, not some big complex with barracks and storage and stuff, and it was old anyway. The money we recovered when we busted Colonel Hargrove is at least two or three times what it'll cost to rebuild. It's a net gain."

"And tell me again the very good reason you had to get rid of this teeny-tiny office?" Al prompted.

Ed mumbled something unintelligible that seemed to end with the word, 'miscalculation.' After giving the situation some thought, Ed added, "Maybe I should stop by the bakery and pick up some of those pink cookies he pretends he doesn't like before I drop off my report. Think that'll help?"

Al shrugged. "You know him better than I do. But, it couldn't hurt."

The two brothers fell silent. Ed went back to his report and Al watched the passing scenery. After a while Al cleared his throat and said somewhat tentatively, "Ah, about General Mustang?"

"What about him?" Ed asked, doodling a couple stick people in one corner of his report.

"You two have spent a lot of time together recently. Is there something you maybe want to tell me?" Al hinted, trying to be delicate.

"Uh," Ed said, face screwing up in deep thought, "nothing comes to mind. If you've got something to ask, just spit it out. I'm not a mind reader."

"Right," Al said, wondering how he could put it without totally embarrassing himself. There were some things him and his brother just didn't talk about. "Well, you see, there are these rumors."

"Rumors?"

"About you and the General," Al prompted, really hoping Ed would get a clue without him actually having to say it.

"About me and Mustang?" Ed parroted back, now really confused.

"You have been spending an awful lot of time together and people have been saying stuff." Seeing that Ed still wasn't following, Al added, "Lots of people think you two have gotten really close. Really close. More than just friends." Al could feel himself blushing bright red by this point.

"Oh," Ed said evenly. Then the actual content of what Al just said managed to sink in. Ed's eyes got as big as saucers and he repeated, much more loudly, "Oh!"

"Uh yeah," Al agreed, somewhat relieved Ed had finally caught on. If it'd gone on any longer Al would have either died from embarrassment or given into the impulse to smack his brother for extreme stupidity--possibly both.

Ed just sat there, gob smacked expression on his face, as his orange pencil dropped from nerveless fingers, bounced once on eraser end, and rolled out of sight toward the back of the train carriage. He blinked a few times and started babbling, "That is, uh, I mean I didn't..it's not..We're..He's..Not that he's not..But I'm..and that is..uh, I guess I'm just trying to say.. it's just, uh..." Ed trailed off, took a deep breath, tried to compose his thoughts, and finally just blurted out, "But he's a General."

Al fought a hard won inner battle not to laugh at his elder brother's bewilderment. Then he said, "Well I guess that's okay then." After a few moments, he added, a bit more seriously, "I just wanted you to know that whatever it is with whomever it is, it's still okay, no matter what. I just want you to be happy."

"Uh, yeah," said Ed, "Thanks... I guess." From the glazed over expression and tomato red blush, Ed clearly had something other than mission reports on his mind.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Later that evening, and a mere fifteen minutes after his train arrived in Central, Ed found himself knocking on General Mustang's apartment door.

Ed had spent the last four hours of the train ride trying to come up with a good justification for just ignoring the rumors. However, when the doorman of Roy's ritzy apartment building greeted him by name, winked, and waved him in without phoning upstairs for permission any hope he had of dismissing the whole thing as total nonsense was pretty much demolished.

Roy answered the door before Ed could lose his nerve and make a run for it. Roy was in his shirt sleeves and hadn't put on his boots yet. Since he was in the process of fastening a cufflink when he answered the door, Ed assumed he was dressing to go out rather than the opposite process.

"Fullmetal?" Roy said, somewhat surprised to see him outside his door. Ed had been over a time or two to borrow a book or to discuss the occasional military or alchemical matter that wasn't safe for public consumption, but he'd never just shown up before. "What happened?"

"Uh, well, uh..." Ed said, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and not know how to explain. "Can I come in?"

Roy simply stepped to one side of the doorway to give Ed room to enter.

Ed walked into the apartment, stumbled on the edge of Roy's expensive imported rug, gingerly sat on the very edge of Roy's cushy leather couch, and spent the next few moments fidgeting.

Roy finished fastening his cufflink and looked over at Ed inquiringly.

Ed continued to fidget.

Roy sat down on the couch next to Ed.

Ed jumped slightly, almost falling off his precarious perch, and slid a few inches farther away.

"I'm expected at Mrs. Haruko's musical evening," Roy paused for a second to glance at his watch, "in another forty-eight minutes. Either spit it out or save it till tomorrow."

"Right," Ed agreed. "Me and Al were talking, and, uh..." he trailed off.

"Forty-seven minutes," Roy prompted.

Ed shot Roy a venomous look. Announcing minutes like that when there was something really important to discuss was just beyond irritating. Then, deciding the only way to do this was to just get it over with, Ed took a deep breath and blurted out, "Did you know we're dating?"

Roy blinked a couple times, finding himself somewhat nonplused by Ed's sudden non sequitur. "Dating whom?"

"Each other," Ed answered.

"That's what I thought you meant," Roy said as he tried to formulate an appropriate response.

On one hand, Ed was a very attractive person. He was better company than most. Listening to one of Ed's impassioned arguments concerning alchemy or why cream sauce was evil was so much more entertaining than the vast majority of dates Roy'd been on in the past few years. Add to that burnished gold eyes, lashes long enough to make most women jealous, sun kissed complexion, muscle definition that reminded others of their lackadaisical gym attendance, and top it all off with a devil-may-care grin and one would have to be dead not to notice Ed's allure. And, admittedly, now that Ed was a grown man rather than an obnoxious brat, Roy had found himself idly wondering what it'd be like to run his hands through all that long blond hair on more than one occasion.

On the other hand, Ed being interested in him, in anything other than a platonic sense, was totally unimaginable. Actually, the thought of Ed being interested in anyone in anything other than a platonic sense was kind of difficult for Roy to wrap his mind around. As far as he could see, Ed was interested in exactly two thing: alchemy and his brother. After he hit his teenage years, food factored in there as well, but even then he'd forget to eat whenever particularly engaged with one of his two actual interests. Girls, or boys, just seemed to be totally off Ed's radar. Sure, Fullmetal did date that one girl, but that was clearly an anamoly brought on because he couldn't practice alchemy and he felt lonely without his brother.

Maybe that's what this was. Al was married and although Ed had a project in the works alchemy just wasn't as all consuming as it once was. Roy certainly didn't want Ed doing anything he'd regret later in some vain attempt to patch a hole in his life, especially not if it would ruin a perfectly good friendship/working relationship. Ed had been in his command literally since childhood. It would be far too easy to take advantage of that.

"Fullmetal... Edward, just what is it that makes you think we're dating?" Roy asked gently, trying to get a gauge of the situation.

"It's not what I think, you boob, it's everybody," Ed answered, exasperated with Roy's manner. It had a definite, 'Let the kid down easy, for I am older and wiser and know so much more,' feel to it.

"Everybody?" Roy parroted back, making mental note of how frequently of late he'd found himself completely lost while conversing with Ed. That never used to happen. Once upon a time he could recite their entire conversation before they'd ever had it. On the bright side, with that 'boob' comment he could scratch any concern about Ed being over-awed by his rank or age.

"My brother, your doorman, the entire army," Ed elaborated. "They all think we're dating."

"Oh," Roy said, not really understanding what the big deal was, but Ed did have a tendency to over react to the slightest little thing. "Well, we've spent a lot of time together recently," Roy said, shrugging.

"Is that all you have to say?" Ed asked accusingly.

"What else is there?" Roy replied, getting somewhat impatient. He had an extremely boring social function to attend for the good of his career and his hair wasn't going to brush itself into 'charmingly disheveled.'

Ed rolled his eyes in frustration. "I know rules aren't exactly my strong point, but you're a General and I'm a Colonel under your command--isn't there some regulation against that sort of thing? Aren't you the one always saying the truth doesn't matter as much as what people think is true?"

"I see," Roy said, amused by the strange occurrence of Edward, of all people, mentioning military regs. "I appreciate your concern over my career, but, as you pointed out, I am a General and once over a certain rank certain military regulations become less like rules and more like guidelines."

"Guidelines," Ed repeated sourly, giving Roy a disgusted look. Some people always found a way to weasel out of anything.

"As distressing as it may be for you on a personal level to have your name publicly linked with mine, I don't think it's anything we need to worry about professionally," Roy said, slightly offended that Ed found the idea of dating him so repugnant.

Catching Roy's offended tone, Ed admitted, "I wouldn't call it distressing, as long as there's not going to be some big scandal, more like... weird."

"Weird how?" Roy asked, intrigued.

"Honestly," Ed began, grinning ruefully, "Part of it's because I've known you forever. But, mostly, I think it's weird because it's not that weird."

Roy didn't say anything for a second, trying to puzzle out exactly what that might mean.

Ed decided to elaborate, complete with wild hand gestures, "When Al told me what everyone thought, at first I was shocked anyone could even think that--but then I started to see why people would think it--and that was just strange. Then I wanted to be pissed off and insulted, but I wasn't and that was even stranger. So I kind of had to admit, as much as I didn't want to, that us dating, in theory, doesn't really bother me--and that's just... unnatural."

Roy grinned, not smirked, grinned at Edward's charming naïveté. People changed over time. Relationships changed. Ed's stubborn insistence on keeping people in their premarked little boxes, was both amusing and adorable. Considering Ed's remarkable honesty in addition to his probable reaction if he knew he was being thought of as adorable, Roy decided to be charitable. "If it's any consolation, I don't find the concept particularly repugnant either."

"Well," Ed began, "I guess that makes us even."

"God forbid we ever become uneven," Roy said facetiously. Ed always took equivalency to extremes. "If that's all, I've still got a function to attend," he continued, getting up from the couch to give Ed his cue to leave.

"Right, Ms. Haruko's caterwauling relatives," Ed agreed, smirking evilly. "Have fun with that."

"I will," Roy agreed, best fake smile plastered across his face.

Ed walked over to the apartment door reached for the doorknob, then froze in place. A second later he turned around and said, "Okay, maybe I've just totally lost my mind, but it suddenly hit me that everything fits together and I can't think of any contradictions so at least hear me out."

"Fine," Roy agreed, looking at his watch again, "But, make it fast."

"We spend a lot of time together," Ed began ticking off points with his fingers, "Everyone already thinks we're dating. Neither of us think dating is such a bad idea. Neither of us is seeing anyone else. And, there's not likely to be any professional repercussions if we do date. So why don't we?"

"If you leave now, you can still catch the last bus across town," Roy said, ignoring Ed's bizarre argument.

"After you answer my question," Ed insisted.

"You do realize that interpersonal relationships aren't the same thing as logical arguments?" Roy tried again to fob Ed off for the time being, to give him time to think things over.

"Just answer the question," Ed commanded.

"I wouldn't want to jeopardize our professional relationship--" Roy began.

"Captain Hawkeye turned down your marriage proposal and you still work together," Ed pointed out. "If you're not interested, just say so."

"I wouldn't say I wasn't interested," Roy admitted. "I'm more concerned about your interest. Are you sure you want to pursue this?"

"Of course I'm not sure," Ed said, rolling his eyes at Roy's obtuseness. "Isn't that the whole point of dating? It's the experimental phase of the human mating ritual. I could make all kinds of wild hypothesis about what things would be like between you and me, but there's no way of actually knowing without some hard data."

"Hard data," Roy repeated, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided smile at Ed's science obsession and unintentional double entendre. "I suppose you're right. We really could use something of a... litmus test," his voice taking on a husky tone at the last part of his statement.

Roy stalked toward Ed, in an almost predatory manner, causing Ed to take an involuntary step backwards so that his back was pressed against the door. Roy placed his palms flat against the door, bracketing Ed's face, as if to prevent him escaping. He suspected Ed's neatly constructed hypothesis would disintegrate under the burden of any 'hard data' so he wanted to take full advantage of this opportunity, thinking there probably would never be another.

Ed looked up at Roy, cocky grin--the one he usually used to cover up nerves--firmly in place.

Before Ed could rethink this and run away, Roy leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to Ed's. Warmth was the first thing he noticed. He'd read somewhere that automail made a person's temperature run a few degrees higher than normal, but now that actually meant something, made him wonder what it'd feel like to do more than kiss.

Impatient with Roy's careful pace, Ed growled in the back of his throat, sucked Roy's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to let Roy know he wasn't pleased with all this pussy footing around.

Getting the hint, Roy drew back just far enough so he could place his hands at Ed's waist and hoist the smaller man up far enough to kiss properly without getting a crick in his neck.

Ed obligingly wrapped his legs around Roy's waist so as to secure his position wedged between the taller man and the apartment door.

Then the battle of lips and teeth and tongue was joined. Each eagerly exploring the other and neither willing to give up an inch of control. Ed slid his hand into the open collar of Roy's dress shirt, lightly tracing the line of his collarbone with a thumbnail. Roy pulled the tie out of Ed's pony-tail and ran his hands through the thick, slightly coarse, golden strands. Both were doing their best to ignore certain feelings from other parts of their anatomy--it was far too soon for that.

A few minutes later, Ed pulled back as far as the door he was pressed against would allow and pushed on Roy's shoulders, asking for more room. Roy stepped back, letting Ed slide to the floor and regain shaky feet. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" Ed asked, still a bit breathless.

Roy briefly considered saying to hell with career advancement and dragging Ed off to his bedroom, or possibly the couch, he thought he could definitely make it to the couch. Then his personal ambitions got the better of him. "I need to leave soon. I'm already going to be late. Dinner? Tomorrow?"

Ed nodded his assent.

"I'll come by your place around eight," Roy said. "Dress nice." Then he gave Ed a quick peck on the lips and shoved him out the door before they could get any further sidetracked.

Roy glanced down at the hair tie he'd forgotten to give back to Ed. His eyes widened in shock and in total disbelief he said, barely above a whisper, "I've got a date with Edward Elric."

Then shoving the hair tie in his trouser pocket, he retreated to his bedroom to finish dressing but with a new bounce in his step that certainly wasn't brought on by thoughts of spending the evening sucking up to one of his least favorite generals. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Roy arrived at Ed's door promptly at eight that evening. He adjusted the collar of his dress uniform, brushed some lint off his shoulder, wondered if he were just about make a total fool of himself, and knocked on the door. Ed had dropped off his report at the office earlier that day, they'd had their usually bickering session, and Ed left without a single sign of their impending relationship. Roy didn't act any different from usual either, but he held himself to different standards than what he expected of Fullmetal.

"It's open," Ed shouted, voice somewhat muffled by the door.

Roy let himself in the apartment, making careful note of his surroundings. He hadn't been inside since Al convinced the entire office to help Ed move into his own place, just a few weeks before Al and Winry's wedding. That was months ago, but you'd never know it by the looks of the place. None of the boxes were unpacked. The furniture was still sitting where ever Ed's erstwhile movers had dropped it--couch with cushions facing the wall, chairs stacked on top of each other.

The only sign that this was a place of residence, rather than a warehouse, was the clear garment bag draped over the back of the couch. It still contained the dress uniform Roy had so thoughtfully sent over for Ed that afternoon. Roy knew he should have opted for standard formal wear, but the thought of finally getting Ed into uniform was just too tempting. Fortunately, Roy had a plan B, just in case Ed was too stubborn to don appropriate dress. He also had plans c and D, to make sure all bases were covered.

Ed was nowhere in sight, but his bedroom door was half open.

Since it didn't look like Ed was going to be coming out to greet him, offer a drink, or give him an ETA on being ready--Roy decided to make his way down the narrow path between the boxes that lead to the bedroom and see for himself what the hold up was.

The bedroom looked more lived in. Through the half open door, he could see an unmade bed and books and papers stacked on one corner of the dresser. Every so often a sliver of white cloth would be visible at the edge of the doorway. Roy stepped into the room and got his first clear view of his date. It was something of a revelation.

Since Ed had come back Roy had seen him in his trademark red and black, which had become something of a work uniform--it just wouldn't do to disappoint people's expectations of The Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy'd also occasionally seen him in jeans, khakis, sweats, and one particular moth eaten sweater, your basic assortment of casual clothes--when Ed was off duty. But this, this was surprising to say the least.

Ed was clad in classic black evening wear--black tie, tailored tuxedo trousers, crisp white dress shirt, waistcoat, not cummerbund, and dress shoes in place of the usual clunky boots. The jacket hanging from a hook anchored to the inside of the open closet door even looked to have tails.

"You're dressed-up," Roy commented, extremely impressed with the transformation. Ed had gone from snotty college kid to elegant professional in one fell swoop.

"Uh huh," Ed replied as if to ask, 'and your point is?' but without actually opening his mouth because he currently had a black ribbon held in his teeth while both his hands were occupied putting his hair in a pony-tail.

"When did you get that suit?" Roy asked curiously. The tailoring was just too good to be a rush job.

"When I was getting my coat made," Ed replied, having gotten his hair tied back with an elastic band and being in the process of tying the ribbon over the elastic. "The tailor already had all my measurements, I figured I should go ahead and get everything at one time so I didn't have to go back. I was bound to have to dress up eventually." Ed paused a second and added, "Nice try with the uniform. How long ago did you get that made?"

"Actually, that was Hawkeye's doing," Roy said defensively. "You know she'd never chance one of her minions appearing at a State function improperly dressed."

Ed took the jacket off its hanger and put it on. As Ed was straightening his collar, Roy hesitated for a second, then reached out, pulled Ed's pony-tail out of the jacket collar, and combed his fingers through to make the hair lay in one smooth tail down the center of Ed's back.

A surprised look flitted across Ed's face at the sudden familiarity, but he didn't make any comment.

"I've been meaning to ask," Roy said, while Ed pulled on white gloves. "What happened to the braid?"

Ed just shrugged, "Got out of the habit I guess."

"Hmm?" Roy said, eyes fixed on Ed's pony-tail.

"Over There," capitalization clear in Ed's tone, making which 'over there' he meant quite clear, "They don't have automail," Ed explained as he loaded things like wallet and keys into various pockets. "I fixed what was left of mine as best I could, but I'm not a mechanic. Braiding got to be beyond my limited motor skills. A braid's still more practical if I'm going to be in a fight or doing some really delicate experiment and don't want to take any chances on my hair getting in the way--but most of the time a pony-tail's just easier."

"How pragmatic," Roy commented, somewhat facetiously. Roy suspected vanity factored in there somewhere, even if Ed would never admit it. "Ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be," Ed said giving a Roy a lopsided grin. This whole dating thing may have been his idea, but it was still a somewhat intimidating proposition.

The two of them trooped downstairs to the car, walking fairly close together but not really touching. If this were a boy/girl date the girl would have taken the boy's arm or maybe they'd hold hands--as it was, they weren't entirely certain what to do with themselves.

"There's no driver," Ed observed with some trepidation.

"I thought that would be best. No sense in feeding the office gossip mill," Roy explained.

"I could drive. You'd just have to give me directions," Ed offered looking pointedly at Roy's eye patch.

"No thank you," Roy said, just as pointedly opening the passenger side door and motioning Ed inside.

"I really wouldn't mind driving," Ed tried again, as Roy settled into the driver's seat.

"Fullmetal, if I'd lost both eyes, I would still be a better driver than you are," Roy replied.

"Geez, a couple little accidents that were mostly not even my fault..." Ed grumbled.

"Try eight at fault accidents in the past year," Roy corrected. "You have been permanently banned from the motor pool."

"And only one in the past six months," Ed protested. "Traffic laws here aren't the same--it's not like I'm a bad driver." Seeing that Roy was completely unconvinced, Ed finally caved, "Fine, you drive. When your rusty driving skills and lack of depth perception kills us both, don't say I didn't warn you."

Roy maneuvered his shiny luxury sedan out of its parking spot behind Ed's dented second hand jeep and carefully drove down Ed's poorly lighted side street. When they reached a main, and thus well lit, street, Roy picked up the thread of their conversation once again, "You could cut your hair short, like your brother's, then you wouldn't even need a pony-tail."

"Gee, I never thought of that. I think I'll go by the barber tomorrow," Ed answered.

"You wouldn't," said Roy. "Your fan club would be too broken hearted."

"You're right, I won't. But, if I thought it'd get the typing pool to stop making googly eyes at me I might be tempted." Ed paused a second, then added, "I can't believe you dated half of them. Those women are scary."

"I'll admit, some of them can be a little... over enthusiastic, but they're not that bad," Roy protested.

"I happened to sit next to Sadie, or Sandy, or whatever her name is in the cafeteria one day. Next thing I know she's making me lunches with finger sandwiches shaped like hearts," Ed argued.

"She was just trying to be nice," Roy pointed out.

"It's creepy," Ed insisted.

"If it's not for the sake of your many admirers, why don't you cut your hair?" Roy asked, honestly curious.

Ed was quiet for a moment, then he said, very simply, "Mom said she liked my hair long."

A not quite comfortable, but not really uncomfortable either, silence descended in the car.

A few minutes later Roy pulled up in front of a posh restaurant. They handed the car off to the valet attendant and Roy swept in through the double doors held open by two neatly uniformed footmen. Ed trailed behind, looking somewhat bemused.

"General Mustang," the maitre d' greeted them just inside the door, not batting an eyelash at seeing the General with a young man rather than a young lady. "Your usual table?"

"Yes, please," Roy replied. "The Colonel and I have some business to discuss and would appreciate being away from prying ears." Although Generals were given quite a bit of latitude with the rules, discretion was just good manners.

The maitre d' lead them back to a secluded corner table and left them to peruse the menu.

"Jesus Christ," Ed exclaimed, "These steaks cost more than a whole cow."

"I assure you I'm well able to afford it," Roy replied dryly.

"That's not the point. I could afford it too... even after all the deductions for property damage." Ed said rolling his eyes. "It's the principle of the thing. You know, one steak vs. whole cow."

"It's not the food, it's the ambience," Roy argued.

"Ambience? Dark corner, couple candles, potted plants, yeah, I can really see you're getting your money's worth," Ed said sarcastically. Ed stopped for a second, as if something had just occurred to him. Then he continued, "Just so you know, I'm not having sex with you tonight, no matter how much money you fritter away."

"Excuse me?" Roy said, more than a little offended. Granted, he did have certain plans of a sexual nature scheduled for later that evening, assuming they got through the date without mishap--but that had absolutely nothing to do with money.

"If this whole dating thing crashes and burns a week from now, I'd prefer it if I didn't have to spend the rest of my life knowing you've seen me naked," Ed explained. "Not minimizing the risk by testing the water before diving in would just be stupid."

The conversation broke off temporarily when Roy spotted the waiter heading their way. They placed their order--two cow priced steaks plus small house priced wine.

After the waiter left, Roy said in a strained tone, clearly trying to keep his temper, "I appreciate and even agree with you wanting to hedge your bets. You won't get any arguments from me about us taking things slow. However, I resent your insinuation that I'd ever try to buy sexual favors."

"Did you or did you not instruct Havoc to spend a lot of money and leave the receipt where his date could read it?" Ed pointed out.

"That's different," Roy protested weakly, his righteous indignation suddenly feeling a little silly. "Being with a good provider is a big attraction for women--it's some kind of biological imperative--and Havoc needs all the help he can get. That doesn't mean I'd ever resort to that kind of behavior."

Ed gave Roy a toothy grin, knowing he'd just won.

After that little flare up the rest of dinner proceeded smoothly right up until the moment Roy informed Ed of his plans to take him to the ballet.

"The ballet?" Ed asked for the third time, in total disbelief.

"Yes, the ballet," Roy confirmed, yet again, as they walked to the theater which was less than a block away from the restaurant.

"You do realize I'm not a girl?" Ed asked, as if Roy might really be mistaken on the matter.

"Being female isn't a prerequisite for enjoying the fine arts," Roy said acerbically. Upon reflection, maybe he should have altered his standard first date plan in view of who he was going out with, but Ed was really making too big a deal of this.

"Do you like the ballet?" Ed asked.

"I'm always impressed with the display of athleticism," Roy said defensively.

"Since neither of us are ballet fans, why don't we just skip it?" Ed suggested.

"We're almost there and the tickets are already paid for. We're going," Roy said stubbornly.

They did go. And, although certainly not a rousing success, it wasn't that bad. Ed fell asleep half an hour in. Roy, taking advantage of his private box, let the petite blond lean on his shoulder--marveling at how extremely cute Ed was when he was sleeping.

Ed was unusually quiet during the drive back to his apartment, sort of sleepy and mellow after his nap.

Roy pulled back into the parking spot he'd vacated earlier that evening. Ed didn't make any move to get out, probably because he didn't even realize they'd stopped, judging from his half asleep expression.

Deciding that the standard goodnight kiss would be well within the bounds of taking things slowly, Roy reached across the car and pulled Ed in for a kiss. This kiss, unlike the one of the previous evening, was a leisurely exploration, each taking their time learning the other's likes and dislikes and little sensitive spots.

A few minutes later, both wearing slightly goofy grins, Roy asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to see you to your door?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Ed said, albeit reluctantly. Changing the subject, Ed asked, "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"What'd you have in mind?" Roy asked.

"I don't know, take-out, maybe a game of chess?" Ed suggested.

"Just like all those times before?" Roy said, implying it wasn't all that date like and thus his ballet choice wasn't nearly as much of a lemon as Ed seemed to think.

"I'll bring the food. And after chess, maybe we could make out on your couch," was Ed's parting shot as he got out of Roy's car and slammed the door behind himself. 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The evening after their first date Roy had to reschedule, due to a late running budget meeting. The evening after that, Ed had to cancel due to clean-up after a slight lab accident--no injuries, but some of the equipment was never going to be the same. Ed and Roy both had previous engagements for Friday--a family dinner and a work related social function, respectively.

Saturday evening, they finally both found themselves free for the proposed evening of take-out, chess, and possible making out.

That morning Roy slept in, as was his custom Saturdays. Then he made a pot of coffee and read the paper cover to cover. After finishing his morning, or technically afternoon, rituals, he began preparing his apartment for Ed's arrival. Twice weekly visits from his cleaning lady kept the place spotless, but a few recently acquired rare alchemy texts needed to be put up, preferably on a high shelf where Ed wouldn't see them. Spending an evening watching Ed read was not Roy's idea of fun.

Normally, with a date coming over, Roy would have gotten fresh flowers for the mantel and perhaps lit a few candles, but in view of Ed's nap at the ballet he decided to give the romantic atmosphere a pass.

Apartment ready, Roy retreated to the bathroom to see to his personal appearance. Two hours later--after a nap in the tub--he emerged from his bedroom neatly dressed in black slacks, crisp navy button down, and black loafers.

A few minutes later the distinctive sound of metal knuckles rapping on his front door sounded in Roy's apartment. Roy opened the door and Ed rushed past to deposit the three take-out bags he was carrying on the coffee table--before he dropped something.

Roy closed the door behind Ed and the two of them stood there just looking at each other for a few seconds. Roy in something other than a uniform was a rare sight. Ed's appearance--not so rare.

Ed was wearing baggy cargo pants of an indeterminate faded color, possibly something greenish, with frayed hems from where they dragged the ground, scuffed black boots, his favorite gray sweater with what looked like dirt smeared on one sleeve, and white gloves with even more stains. Even Ed's pony-tail looked a little worse for wear, more strands than usual having fallen out.

The silence having carried on too long to suit Ed, he said, "I brought Xingan," as if that weren't obvious from the appetizing smells wafting from the bags.

"I like Xingan," Roy replied, still staring at Ed.

Ed suffered Roy's scrutiny for a more few seconds, then said irritably, "What?"

"If this was a bad time for you, you could have rescheduled for another night," Roy offered tactfully.

"Huh?" Ed asked, absently pushing a few strands of hair behind his ear.

"If you were running late at your lab and called to postpone dinner for an hour or so to give you time to run home and change, I wouldn't have objected," Roy elaborated.

"Are you trying to say something about the way I'm dressed?" Ed demanded belligerently.

"No, never mind, forget I said anything," Roy began to drop the subject. Then giving in to temptation he added, "I momentarily forgot that I was dating an uncouth child, totally ignorant of the way civilized people dressed for social engagements."

"If I'm an uncouth child, doesn't that make you a pervy child fancier?" was Ed's snide rejoinder. Then motioning at the bags he'd just set down he added, "Wanna eat this here or in the kitchen?"

"Whichever," Roy replied. Neither choice was ideal. The kitchen was tiny and really too cramped for more than one person. The coffee table was at knee level if you didn't sit on the floor, and floor sitting was something Roy felt a few years too old to do. It was a question of dignity, not creaky joints--he wasn't that old. He'd once had a folding table specifically for the purpose of dinner dates at home, but it'd been left behind in the basement of his old building when he'd moved two years previous.

"Here's good," Ed said, unpacking the bags.

"I'll get you a fork," Roy offered.

"Don't bother," Ed stopped him, "I'll just use chopsticks."

"I thought you didn't like chopsticks?" asked Roy, remembering that Ed requested a fork the handful of times they had Xingan food for lunch.

Ed shrugged and said, "I just don't like using them in public."

"Afraid you're going to drop something and embarrass yourself?" Roy speculated.

"I don't drop stuff," Ed insisted. "The wood snags my gloves. When I take off my gloves in public, everyone stares at my hand," Ed explained matter of factly.

"Ice water?" Roy asked, before going to the kitchen to get drinks.

"Uh huh," Ed agreed, smiling in recognition of Roy's remembering that he preferred water over wine or any kind of flavored drink when eating spicy foods.

Roy briefly considered getting plates while he was there but decided against it. They'd eat their take-out from the cardboard cartons it came in--just as God intended. Many aspects of fine dining Roy whole-heartedly embraced. The female urge to put everything on a plate, however, never made any sense to him. It was just something more to wash.

A few seconds later they sat down to eat, Roy on the couch and Ed sprawled on the floor on the opposite side of the table. Despite his better judgment telling him not to stare, Roy found himself transfixed by the sight of Ed's metal hand skillfully manipulating chopsticks. The fact of Ed's automail was in no way a shock to him, but Ed always kept it covered. Roy had never actually seen such a marvel of automail engineering up close and personal. The movement of the joints allowed for near perfect replication of the movement of an actual human hand.

"You're staring," Ed pointed out.

"Sorry," Roy said, still staring.

"You've got an automail fetish?" Ed half asked and half accused.

"I do not," Roy insisted, finally tearing his gaze away from Ed's hand to level a glare at Ed's smirking face. "My interest is purely academic," he said defensively. Then, changing the subject, he added, "Do you have to keep implying that I'm some kind of pervert?"

"It depends," Ed replied. "Do you have to keep making cracks about my age and height?"

"I haven't said anything about your height in days," Roy protested.

"I think the gift wrapped step stool you had delivered to my lab three days ago spoke for itself," Ed grumbled, clearly still holding a grudge.

Roy wisely decided not to press the matter. He'd just had his walls painted and that spicy pork Ed liked tended to stain.

"So what's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" Ed asked curiously.

"Nothing at all," Roy said facetiously, "If we were planning an evening of yard work," he added motioning toward Ed's dirt stains with his chopsticks.

"Well excuse me if my experiments need tending everyday, not just Monday through Friday," Ed replied testily. "I don't know what the big deal is, it's just a little dirt. It's not like it's manure."

"Fullmetal," Roy began, then thinking better of his form of address he started again, "Edward, I know this is outside the realm of your personal experience, but, traditionally, when one is dating, even if the date itself is a casual affair, one is supposed to take a certain level of care with personal appearance. It demonstrates respect for your date and that you are at least making an effort to make a good impression."

"Do you practice sounding that pompous and condescending? Or does it come naturally?" Ed asked.

Despairing of Ed ever becoming civilized, Roy simply answered, "It's a gift."

They ate in silence for a few moments. Then Ed offered, "I still don't get it, but I guess it wouldn't kill me to iron a shirt," one side of his mouth quirking up into a slightly rueful grin.

"That would be greatly appreciated," Roy said, giving Ed a tentative smile. Edward making any kind of concession, even for a potential lover, was somewhat surprising. Great compromiser Ed was not. It was just another thing that served to illustrate how Ed had gone from boy to man in the years he was gone, and it made Roy wonder about the things that happened during that time to shape him into the man he'd become. "I'd also suggest ditching the sweater," Roy suggested.

"The dirt'll wash out," Ed protested.

"It's not so much the dirt as it is the sweater," Roy insisted. "Among other things, one arm's longer than the other."

"Really?" Ed asked, holding his arms straight out in front of him--chopsticks still clasped in his metal hand. Seeing that the left sleeve was in fact shorter than the right, he said without a hint of sarcasm, "I never noticed." Then putting the matter aside, Ed shrugged, said, "Not bad for a first try though," and ate another bite of spicy pork.

"First try at what?" Roy asked.

Ed finished chewing, swallowed, then answered, "Knitting. This was Al's first project. I found it in a trunk when I was helping them move. It used to be too big."

"Your brother knits?" Roy asked. Knitting just wasn't something Roy envisioned an alchemist of Alphonse Elric's caliber taking up--especially not a male alchemist. In Roy's opinion, knitting was both tedious and awfully girly. Why painstakingly knit a sweater when you could draw an array and alchemize one in seconds? Especially when doing it the hard way could call your manhood into question.

"We spent a lot of time on trains," Ed explained, expression clearly showing that his personal reaction to knitting was about what Roy's was. "And he used to not sleep," Ed added. "Al's always been big on keeping busy."

"I assume he's improved over time," Roy commented, mentally stumbling on the image of a giant suit of armor clicking away with a couple knitting needles.

"No one complained about the scarves he made at Christmas," Ed said, referring to the fluffy white mufflers Al made for all their military friends. The scarves were well within winter uniform regulation but were of much better quality than the standard issue. The entire office, including the General, sported Al's creations through most of the rest of that winter and they were once again making their appearance now that the cool fall weather had started to set in.

"I didn't realize those were handmade," Roy said, finding new appreciation for an already appreciated gift. "But, my point is, couldn't you persuade your brother to make you a halfway decent looking sweater, now that he has more experience?" Family loyalty and sentimental value were all very well and good--but that didn't mean Ed had to go around looking like a homeless person.

"He already has," Ed replied. "This one's more comfortable."

Changing the subject, Roy asked after Ed and Al's science project. He got detailed weekly reports, but the unofficial version was usually much more entertaining.

In response, Ed launched into a detailed explanation of how a small potting soil explosion could have happened to anyone, how it wasn't really his fault, and not to pay any attention to anything Al might have to say on the matter.

After they finished dinner, Roy cleared away the empty cardboard containers and fetched his chess set from its place on the top shelf of the bookcase. As they were setting up the board at one end of the coffee table, Ed suddenly reached across the board and picked up one of Roy's white pawns. "Are these teeth marks?" Ed asked, holding up the scarred pawn.

Roy nodded, then added, "Mine, according to my mother, although I have no recollection of ever doing such a thing."

"Yours?" Ed prompted, as he placed the pawn back on the board and they started the game.

"One of her favorite stories. Supposedly, as a small child I had a habit of gnawing on random inedible objects," Roy said with heavy skepticism in his tone, as if his mother must have been mistaken because he could have never had such a habit. "One day, when I was about three, my father found me trying to eat his chess set. Not being overly familiar with small children, he interpreted that as a sign of interest in the game rather than simple childish teething--so he decided to try to teach me chess."

"Did he succeed?" Ed asked.

"He must have, although probably not that afternoon," Roy replied. "We played a game every Sunday, right up until the week he died."

"You know," Ed said, eyebrows drawn together in thought, "I never really pictured you with parents. I mean, I know you didn't just hatch from an egg, but you never talk about family or anything like that."

"There's just not that much to say," Roy replied. "My father was an alchemy professor at a civilian university outside East City, taught basic alchemy theory and never really wanted to do anything else. He married late in life, was nearly sixty when I was born, and died from a stroke when I was ten."

"You were close," Ed observed based on Roy's slightly melancholy expression as he relayed the bare facts.

"After a fashion," Roy agreed, after some thought. "I think I was something of a shock to him--that he never planned on having children and found himself sort of at a loss when it came to dealing with a little boy. We didn't really spend much time together, except for our game every Sunday after lunch. But after he died, I missed that--even if it was just an hour or two each week."

"And your mom?" Ed asked.

"Alive and well. She remarried when I was fifteen, the same year I went away to the Academy, a farmer with eleven kids who seems to suit her better than my father ever did. I go visit occasionally, and she's perfectly happy, but after a few hours the pandemonium of all his children, along with their spouses and offspring, starts driving me up a wall," Roy replied.

They played in silence for a few minutes, each devoting full attention to their next move.

"If your mom married a farmer, does that mean you grew up out in a rural area? Or did she just move out there later?" Ed asked.

"Well, it wasn't exactly the boonies, but Marianna was a small town and a good hour's drive from East City," Roy admitted.

"Imagine that, Roy Mustang isn't quite the consummate urbanite he's led everyone to believe he is," Ed said teasingly.

"Although I'd been to East City enough times not to qualify as a slack-jawed country bumpkin when I first went off to school, I was certainly fortunate to have Maes to show me around Central," Roy smiling wistfully as he remembered his friend fondly. "He grew up here and knew all the best places for getting into and out of trouble."

"So you two met in school?" Ed asked.

"We were roommates for three years. I was the only one willing to room with him and his photo collection," Roy said self-depreciatingly.

At Ed's prompting Roy shared a few stories of the two of them sneaking out after curfew and getting into trouble as schoolboys--things Roy hadn't thought about in years. It was nice remembering Maes Hughes before the war and everything that came after.

"Checkmate," Ed said as he placed his knight back on the board.

Roy examined the pieces for a second, then asked, "How do you do that?"

"Genius," Ed replied smugly.

"But you suck at strategy. You're the dive in headlong type. I'm the one who thinks things through," Roy protested. Roy was good at chess. He rarely lost. But, Ed was now nine for twelve in their periodic games.

"That's people and this is chess. Chess pieces aren't deceitful and all sneaky," Ed pointed out.

"Are you implying that I'm just a better liar?" Roy asked, suspicious.

"You said it, not me," Ed replied. "So, another game? Or something else?"

"I think I've had enough chess for the evening," Roy said, leaving the 'something else' to Ed in order to see if he was brazen enough to carry through on his original offer.

Picking up on the challenge implicit in Roy's statement, what small amount of trepidation about the rest of the evening which Ed might have been feeling evaporated in the light of his reflex reaction to any type of thrown gauntlet. Ed grinned his best shark grin, got up from his place on the floor, and circled around the coffee table to the couch. He paused for a second to pull the elastic band from his hair and shove it in his pocket. Then he climbed onto the couch, one knee to each side of Roy, hands braced on Roy's shoulders. Ed smirked slightly at their position. With him kneeling like he was, Ed was a few inches taller than Roy--a unique position for the petite alchemist. Putting aside height concerns for the moment, Ed leaned down and pressed his lips to Roy's.

For a moment Roy simply reveled in the sensation of being thoroughly kissed by Edward Elric. He didn't think he'd ever been with someone who kissed with such a sense of total concentration before. It seemed Ed's, at times, extreme focus spilled over into other areas besides alchemy. Then, never one to sit passively by and let others take the lead, Roy twinned one hand in Ed's long blond locks and wrapped the other arm around Ed's waist. Then he turned slightly and laid back on the couch, taking Ed with him.

Ed squeaked in surprise at suddenly finding himself sprawled on top of Roy. He could feel Roy's lips curve up in a grin against his own. The bastard was amused. Ed pulled back slightly so that he could shift up a few inches and place his metal hand just above Roy's shoulder so he could brace his weight on his arm rather than Roy's chest--Ed knew he wasn't exactly a light-weight what with all the metal additions. After getting properly adjusted, he shot Roy an indignant look, then leaned down to nibble on Roy's ear.

Roy growled encouragingly as Ed lightly bit down on the outer edge of his ear. Meanwhile, the hand Roy'd had wrapped around Ed's waist started drifting upward, underneath Ed's sweater, and the other drifted downward from Ed's hair to his butt.

Ed reached up to remove Roy's eye-patch and felt a hand suddenly clamp around his wrist.

"Don't," Roy said, suddenly dead serious.

"It's kind of in my way," Ed pointed out, lightly touching the strap to illustrate how he couldn't even properly run his hand through Roy's hair with the eye-patch in place.

"Just leave it," Roy insisted.

Ed slid to one side so that he was laying on his side between Roy and the back of the couch, head propped on one hand and with his metal hand lightly resting on Roy's chest. "Why?" Ed questioned just as seriously as Roy issued his command. "You don't think I'm going to be scared off by a few scars, do you?" he asked almost gently.

Roy was silent for a few moments. Not looking at Ed, but rather at Ed's automail hand, Roy admitted, "No, I don't suppose you would be."

"But?" Ed prompted.

"You know, the injury didn't really curtail my romantic prospects, at least not to start with," Roy said, backhandedly admitting that he didn't stop dating just because he was busy. "A lot of women thought the patch made me look rakish, like a pirate. But, after they saw the truth... well, they were all very nice about it, but being pitied isn't exactly a welcome feeling," Roy explained.

"Don't be a jackass," Ed easily dismissed Roy's concern. "Like I'd ever pity you. Lost one eye, big deal. It's not like there's something wrong with the one you've still got," Ed added, flexing his metal hand.

"Maybe I am being a jackass," Roy admitted ruefully. "I know you're not someone's secretary. But... not yet?" he asked for more time before being forced to display his personal insecurities.

"We did say we were going to take it slow," Ed said with a shrug. Then looking over at the clock next to the fire place and noticing that it was nearly midnight, he added, "I've got to be in the lab to turn on the heat lamps at six tomorrow. I should probably go home and get some sleep."

"You probably should," Roy agreed reluctantly. On one hand, if he wasn't ready to take off his eye-patch he could understand Ed being reluctant to take things any further. On the other hand, it was an eye-patch, not a cod-piece, that he was refusing to remove, and teasing himself with a little necking and stopping there was something he hadn't made a regular practice of since he was a teenager.

Ed gave Roy a quick peck, slightly to one side of his mouth, in farewell. Climbed over Roy and made toward the door. Just past the coffee table, Ed stopped and turned back toward the couch. "Any plans for tomorrow?"

"My schedule is wide open," Roy answered quickly, thinking that perhaps with a few more hours to work on it Ed could be persuaded to work around the eye-patch.

"Good, you can help me and Al clean up. There's still potting soil all over everything. Come by around noon, bring lunch," Ed ordered, then quickly exited the apartment before Roy could come up with an excuse.

"Brat," Roy muttered to himself. Then he grinned at the prospect of Ed using his step-ladder to clean the high shelves tomorrow. 


End file.
